


And The Saints

by Glisseo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, very slight reference to sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glisseo/pseuds/Glisseo
Summary: Lily and James Potter were good, and brave, but they were never saints - not really.Ten years of November 1st.





	1. 1971

_1971  
  
_ James’ hand is only inches from the bubbling cauldron now, and quickly he turns and shoots a triumphant grin at Sirius, who returns it only briefly. His own eyes are fixed on the cauldron’s owner, too busy chopping ingredients to notice the fact that his potion is receiving some unwanted attention.   
  
They’re a force to be reckoned with even after mere months of knowing each other, so in tune it’s like they’ve been so forever, but they’re not infallible. They never will be, and as they ensure that their nemesis doesn’t catch them in the act, they overlook, crucially, the spanner in the works, who sits at the next bench, her green eyes narrowing as she cottons on to what’s happening.   
  
“What d’you think you’re  _doing_?”  
  
Several things happen at once: James, startled, drops the feathers he’s about to slip into Snape’s cauldron, Snape spins around with a angry shout, and Lily leaps forwards, fury colouring her face.  
  
“What?” asks James, belatedly off-hand. “I wasn’t doing anything.”  
  
“You were about to drop something in his potion! I  _saw_ you!”   
  
“Lily –” Snape starts warningly, but she speaks over him.   
  
“What were you going to do to it? If you were trying to hurt him then –”  
  
“We weren’t,” says Sirius, rolling his eyes. “Relax, Evans. It was harmless.”  
  
“Yeah,” James says. “Just a joke.”   
  
“I don’t think that’s funny at all!”   
  
“Well, it wasn’t aimed at you,” he says. “What’s it to you, anyway? It’s not  _your_ potion.”  
  
Lily looks even angrier at that. “It’s not about whose potion it is! You’re picking on my friendand if you think I’m going to stand by while you do that, then you’re far stupider than I thought!”   
  
She seems dangerously close to pulling her wand on them, and the boys quickly put a few paces between them.   
  
“Look,” James says, raising his hands in supplication, “you caught us, all right? So we’re not going to do it. You win.”

“Really nice job there, Snivellus, getting your girlfriend to protect you,” Sirius adds, and Snape turns puce. Lily casts them one last furious look and pulls him away, and James and Sirius don’t notice that he doesn’t say one more word to her for the rest of the lesson.   
  
“Bloody Evans,” Sirius curses. “Stupid girls. Ruin everything …”  
  
Absently, James agrees, but he finds himself thrown by the turn of events. He didn’t suspect for a minute that anyone would come to Snivellus’ defence: why would they? He has his Slytherin gang, yes, but they only hang around with him because of all the horrible, Dark things he knows. Lily Evans is a Gryffindor, and James, who trusts his instincts, hasn’t picked up anything  _off_ about her … except this.   
  
Is it that Snivellus is secretly a nice person? James laughs to himself. No. It’s not that.

It’s Lily Evans, he thinks. She knew Snivellus before school, though she’s from a Muggle family, and she’s obviously been misled, misguided, convinced that he’s a good person, worth standing up for. And James pities her in that moment, because  _he_ knows otherwise, and he knows that she’ll probably learn the hard way that being loyal to Snape is a mistake.  
  
But he’s been brought up to value loyalty, and valour, and – though it’s almost unconsciously – he respects her, too.

*  
  
Lily’s in a foul mood.

Thoroughly fed up and upset with Severus’ silent treatment, she cornered him after the lesson to demand an explanation, to which he snapped that he didn’t need her standing up for him. He flounced off with his Slytherin mates, leaving her feeling angry and guilty in equal measure. She can see, in hindsight, why he might have been embarrassed; but what kind of a friend would she be if she didn’t intervene? Can’t he  _appreciate_ that? He’s always complaining about Potter and Black – and they, of course, are responsible for the whole thing. Though she’d never admit it to Severus, after their initial, disastrous meeting, she’s been starting to warm to the dark-haired pair, who are thoroughly entertaining when they’re not being malicious. It’s only with Severus that they  _are_ ever really cruel, and Lily knows that he isn’t the innocent party he claims to be in that feud … or at least, not usually. But there, in Potions, he didn’t do anything to provoke them. They set out to sabotage his work, plain and simple, and showed no remorse whatsoever when confronted. It’s infuriating, but it makes things clearer for Lily. She  _can’t_ like them, not when she’s seen that. And Potter – to ask why she even cared, doesn’t he have any concept of loyalty? Are he and Black only friends because they like causing trouble for others? Seeing them starting to hang around with the two other Gryffindor boys in their year, Lupin and Pettigrew, has contributed to thawing Lily’s opinion of them, but she’s been naïve, she realises now. Lupin and Pettigrew serve a purpose for them: lookouts, probably, or to pander to their giant egos. They’re not  _friends_ , not like she and Severus are. They don’t get it.  
  
*  
  
Peter Pettigrew is the sort of person who doesn’t leave much of an impression on people, even after two months at Hogwarts. He fades into the background: never speaking up in class, never being the centre of a crowd, never visible as his own person, only as someone tagging around with others.   
  
And yet none of that stops Lily and her friends from breaking into a run when they round a corner several days after the Potions incident and see him backed up against the wall by a group of older Slytherins, whose mocking voices echo in the stone passage.   
  
“Thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, eh?” one jeers, and Peter trembles, watery eyes darting, terrified, around for help; and the Gryffindor girls charge, each completely unaware of how they’ll fare against significantly larger and more skilled wizards, but willing to give it a try anyway.   
  
But they make it only a few paces before -   
  
“HEY!”  
  
\- they’re knocked aside by two dark, speeding blurs, who slow to a halt in front of the Slytherins and materialise into James Potter and Sirius Black, who seem thoroughly unconcerned by the fact that the Slytherins look amused, rather than scared, and even less so by the wands that now pointed at them, instead of Peter.  
  
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” James roars, brandishing his wand.   
  
“Or what?” one of the Slytherins sniggers.  
  
“Or we’ll turn you into dust,” Sirius snarls. “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, Travers, you piece of –”  
   
“You’d be willing to take  _us_ on?” says Travers disbelievingly. “All of us? For this fat duffer?” He gestures at Peter. “Are you  _sure_?”  
  
“Shut your mouth,” James spits. “He’s a hundred times the person you are. Leave him alone, or you’ll be sorry.”  
  
The Slytherins just laugh.  
  
Without even exchanging a single glance, moving in sync, James and Sirius send them all crashing to the floor, and the girls gape: they’re  _first-years_ , how do they know enough magic to take down that lot?  
  
Lily’s impressed, but she’s confused, too, because she thought she knew what she thought of these two, and now the slate’s been wiped clean again.  
  
No, not  _clean_  -  this doesn’t excuse anything they’ve done before, of course it doesn’t, but – they  _are_ willing to take those Slytherins on for Peter Pettigrew –  _he’s a hundred times the person you are_ , Potter said - 

So he does have some concept of loyalty.  
  
It’s a start.  
It’s – mystifying.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 1972

_1972_  
  
Before too long, it transpires that the only person responsible for James Potter ending up in the hospital wing with horrible sickness is – James Potter.  
  
His friends heave him up to Madam Pomfrey the morning after the Halloween feast, grey-faced and very ill indeed, and between questions like  _was it a potion? A backfired spell?_ it comes to light that, in actual fact, all he did was challenge Peter to see who could eat more.   
  
And lost.  
  
Spectacularly.  
  
He’s feeling much better by the afternoon, having mostly slept it off, but he’s bored and lonely, and so his spirits rise considerably at the sight of one of his classmates entering the infirmary, cradling her sore-looking left hand.  
  
“Evans!”  
  
She looks over at him, eyebrows lifting.  
  
“Oh,” she says. “Hello.”   
  
He starts to protest this unenthusiastic greeting (in his mind, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t like him), but Madam Pomfrey bustles over and shushes him. She takes one look at Lily’s hand, plonks her down on the bed next to James’, disappears for a moment and then returns with a small jar of something foul-smelling.  
  
“Sit still for a minute or two,” she instructs, “let that work, and you’ll be right as rain.”  
  
James waits til she’s back in her office to strike up conversation again.  
  
“What did you do?”   
  
“Burned it,” says Lily. “Potions accident. I wondered where you were,” she adds. “What’s the matter with you?”  
  
“Well, Dumbledore told me not to say anything, but …” He makes a show of checking for eavesdroppers and lowers his voice. “Last night, during the feast, I discovered that a troll had somehow got into the dungeons. I knew I had to protect the school, so I went to take it down. Unfortunately I didn’t escape completely unscathed –”  

“Oh, Potter, you can go if you’re feeling better,” comes Madam Pomfrey’s voice as she reappears, “and next time you get the urge to stuff yourself at the feast, I suggest you resist it.”

James looks at Lily, who’s stifling giggles with her uninjured hand.  
  
“It could have been true,” he shrugs, undeterred.  
  
“Yeah, because that’s  _sooo_ believable.”   
  
“I believed it a bit.”  
  
“Well, you’re clearly very gullible,” she says, and with the formidable debating skills of a twelve-year old, he sticks out his tongue. She sticks hers out right back.  
  
It’s the first proper conversation they’ve ever had. 


	3. 1973

_1973_  
  
The wave of Hebridean flu that hits Hogwarts chooses, cruelly, to infect Lily the day before her first ever trip to Hogsmeade. Her protests fall on deaf ears, and feeling lousy, she’s forced to stay in the hospital wing while her friends explore the village, imagining just how much fun they’ll be having.  
  
It’s later that day, when the lamps are lit in the infirmary and Lily’s been dozing, that she’s visited by a rather nervous-looking Remus Lupin. Tailing him, and not at all nervous, is James Potter.  
  
“We – er – brought you some sweets,” Remus says, holding up a striped paper bag. “Thought you might be upset you didn’t get to try – oh …” he trails off, spotting the heaving bedside table, laden with similar packages.   
  
“Some people already dropped in,” Lily says apologetically. “That’s really nice of you, though, thanks. You didn’t have to.”  
  
Remus stares at his feet and mumbles something about  _wanting to._    
  
“Mr Lupin?” Madam Pomfrey puts her head around the door. “Could I have a word?”  
  
James steps forward once Remus has gone, awkwardness pinching his face now he and Lily are alone. He recovers quickly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he says.

She frowns. “What?”  
  
“Last year. Don’t you remember? I was in here, and you came to visit me –”  
  
“I did  _not_ come to visit you,” she says hotly.

“Ah, so you do remember it!” He grins. “Is what you’ve got contagious?”   
  
“Extremely.”  
  
“Great. I want to get out of that Charms test on Monday. Can you sneeze on me, or something?”  
  
“That’s disgusting,” Lily says. He doesn’t lose the cocksure grin. It’s infuriating. She reminds herself that she doesn’t  _like_ James Potter: they’re not friends. She doesn’t want to laugh at his pratting around, because that just encourages him to take it too far.   
  
“I’d sneeze on you, if you asked,” he says. “Hey, why isn’t Snivellus here? Not a very good friend, is he?”  
  
“He was here earlier,” she lies.  
  
“Yeah?” James looks at her with something unreadable in his eyes. It had better not be pity. If it’s pity she’s definitely not too ill to jinx him. “We saw him in Hogsmeade  _earlier_. Hanging around some dodgy alley with his cronies. What, did they all come and visit you? I never really saw Mulciber as the sympathetic type, but maybe that’s just me.”

“It’s none of your business,” Lily says stiffly.  
  
“Funny, that,” says James. “ _Snivellus_ doesn’t seem to have any problems with sticking his nose into other people’s business. Then again, I suppose with a beak that size he probably can’t help it -”  
  
“ _Stop_ it!”

She’s always hated how tears spring to her eyes when she gets angry. It suggests weakness. It suggests she hasn’t got the stamina to win a fight.   
  
James’ eyebrows shoot up. “All right, calm down. It was only a joke.”  
  
“Yeah,  _everything’s_  only a joke with you,” she mutters under her breath, and she can’t tell if he heard, because at that moment Remus comes back out and he moves to leave anyway.  
  
“Well, thanks for the visit,” she says, as pleasantly as she can. “And for the sweets.”  
  
“Feel better,” Remus calls. James pauses at the door, then looks back at her. She might be imagining it, but she thinks he looks faintly abashed.  
  
“Yeah,” he says. “Feel better, Evans.”


	4. 1974

_1974_

James is in that weird place where girls are still an odd concept to him, but he can’t seem to stop looking at them.   
  
His eyes are drawn most often to Lily Evans, which he puts down to the fact that she’s always talking and clearly likes to be the centre of attention, but that doesn’t explain just why he’s so annoyed when he finds out that she’s going to Hogsmeade with Mark Murphy.  
  
“ _Murphy?_ ” he demands incredulously of Peter, the messenger. “Why would she – why would  _anyone_ go with Murphy?” Hogsmeade weekends are for having fun - just one reason he can’t fathom why someone would use one for a  _date_  – and Evans isn’t going to get anywhere near fun if she’s hanging around with Mark Murphy, who’s probably getting an O in Being Outrageously Dull.   
  
Peter provides the information that some girls think he’s good-looking.  
  
Sirius, whom a  _lot_ of girls seem to find good-looking, makes a disparaging noise. “He could be the best looking bloke in the world and that wouldn’t be enough to make up for his terrible personality. I’d rather go out with a sack of dragon dung.”  
  
“Lily  _is_  friends with Snape,” Remus reminds them.   
  
“Oh, yeah, right,” James says, comprehension dawning. “She’s got no taste. Should’ve remembered that. Oh, and Remus, mate, would you mind using Snivellus’ proper name when you talk about him?”  
  
“It’s just disrespectful otherwise,” says Sirius.  
  
*  
  
Lily looks across the table at Mark Murphy as he recounts some – well,  _something_ , God he has a boring voice – and wonders what she’s doing on this date.  
  
She knows why she said yes, but she can’t help but despair at  _why_ she said yes. The actual reason. Which is that she’s sick and tired of fancying someone she doesn’t like, and her friends say it’s healthy to go out with other people, and she  _does_ fancy Mark …  
  
But watching him, his glasses slipping down his longish nose, his dark hair a bit windswept, she realises what it is that makes her fancy him and she feels like an idiot.  
  
Because the truth is that Mark Murphy is boring. She likes to believe in people. She likes to give them a chance when others tell her not to bother. But there’ll be people better suited to Mark than her: she likes having a laugh, and he’s just too serious.   
  
She reminds herself that he isn’t cruel or mocking, that he’d never hurt anyone, but it’s no good. She doesn’t  _like_ him.   
She doesn’t like James Potter either, but in a way she does, because he makes her laugh most of the time, he’s certainly not  _boring_ , and – even though Mark’s hair is much neater and he’s better-looking, she finds herself far more attracted to James’ quick, clever hazel eyes and self-assured smirk. The only thing that’s keeping her from really falling for him, she thinks, is the fact that he’s slightly shorter than her. The family failing is tall men, her mum told her. Her dad’s head brushes the ceilings at home, and her grandad’s like a beanpole; so as long as James stays short, she’s safe, and God she hopes that doesn’t change, because the newspaper headlines are getting darker every day and she’s scared for her parents and it’s not going well with Severus and the  _last_  thing she needs is to develop feelings for her best friend’s tormentor.  
  
“… and it turns out I was right all along! Isn’t that funny?”  
  
Lily gazes blankly at Mark.  
  
“Oh yes,” she says belatedly. “Haha! Very funny.”  
  
She’s a terrible person.  
  
“In fact, a similar thing happened in Charms last month …”  
  
Lily tries to listen, but about a minute in the door of the café jangles and four boys walk in, incongruously scruffy against the saccharine décor, and she forgets about Mark completely.  
  
James catches her eye and feigns total surprise. “ _Evans!”_ he mouths, waving exaggeratedly.   
  
She attempts to convey  _bog off_ with her expression, but the boys seem to receive the exact opposite message, and come over and plonk themselves at the adjacent table.  
  
“… isn’t that  _hilarious_?” finishes Mark, who doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. “I laughed so hard I almost cried!”  
  
“Hilarious,” Lily agrees. She feels like crying too, but out of frustration and irritation more than the utter hilarity of Mark’s anecdotes.   
  
He excuses himself to the loo and she immediately swivels around in her seat to glower at James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, who are unashamedly eavesdropping.  
  
“Fancy seeing you here, Evans,” says Sirius. “Bit too much of a coincidence, if you ask me. Are you following us or something?”  
  
“What are you doing here?” Lily hisses, ignoring him and the identical grins plastered on each face. “If you’re trying to ruin my day then that’s just pathetic, and I don’t know what I’ve done to –”  
  
“Actually, we’re looking after your best interests,” says James, expression turning serious. “We thought we ought to check up on you, we were really worried –”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Well, we thought you might have died of boredom.”  
  
_Do not laugh.  
  
_ “Go  _away!_ This is none of your business!”  
  
“Oh, calm down, Evans,” James says. The others are howling with laughter. “I’m only joking. I’m sure Murphy’s a hoot.”  
  
“I think so,” she lies, as she spots him weaving his way back to the table. “Actually, you know what?” She turns to him and gestures at the four boys. “Mark, you know my classmates … they were just saying they’d  _love_ to hear those hilarious stories you were telling me.”  
  
“Really?” Mark’s eyes shine. “Well, of course!”  
  
“I’ll just pop to the loo,” she says sweetly as Mark starts in on his first, long, anecdote. As she gets up, James catches her arm. He looks up at her with panic in his eyes.   
  
“I bet you think you’re so funny,” he hisses.   
  
“I think I’m a hoot,” she says happily, and skips off to the toilet before he can see the blush that’s spreading over her face as a result of his touch.  
  
And he blushes, too, without really knowing why.


	5. 1975

_1975_

There’s a little chant that plays in James’ head every time he’s around Lily Evans these days. It goes  _notice me, notice me, NOTICE ME,_ and then he does something that’ll get her to notice him, but so far she hasn’t fallen, swooning, into his arms and he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.  
  
It snows, heavily, on Halloween night, much to the horror of the teachers who can’t get their overexcited pupils to concentrate. Lily and her friends give up their break to help Hagrid clear the driveway, while on either side, large groups fling themselves into the pure white carpet, throwing snowballs and making snowmen, and Madam Pomfrey watches from an upstairs window, tutting and putting in an order for more Pepper-Up Potion.

  
James and  _his_ friends dive into the snow like they’ve never seen it before, and immediately set about assembling piles and piles of snowballs to fire at anyone who happens to have a corporeal form (the ghosts, of course, are allies). They’ve suitably annoyed a good twenty people by the time James spots, for the first time, Lily Evans, whose distinctive hair is hidden by a hat.

_Notice me, notice me, NOTICE ME …_

He amplifies his voice and makes some hilarious comments, but she doesn’t look around, and he’s close to tearing his hair out:  _why won’t she notice him?  
  
_ “Hey,” he says suddenly to Sirius, struck with an idea, “want to see something funny?”  
  
Sirius, watching him scoop a snowball into his hand, grins widely. With beautiful precision, James takes aim.  
  
The snow splatters into the back of Lily’s head with a resounding  _smack_ , taking her off guard so that she overbalances and topples backwards, landing with a bump on her backside. Half of the surrounding people laugh, but her friends don’t, immediately glaring around for the perpetrator as Hagrid sets her back on the ground so forcefully she almost sinks into it.  
  
“Potter!” cries Mary.   
  
Bright red in the face, Lily looks around; and sure enough, there he is, grinning like a loon, so pleased with himself it’s pathetic. And she knows what he’ll say.   
  
_Just a joke.  
  
_ “Right,” she says, pulling out her wand. Hagrid looks alarmed.   
  
“Don’ be too hard on him, now,” he says hastily. “If yeh ask me, he’s only doin’ it fer attention from yeh – I reckon he likes yeh.”  
  
For some reason, that really makes Lily’s blood boil.  
She fought with Severus yesterday. She got called Mudblood on the way to Ancient Runes earlier this week. She doesn’t need this idiot boy who needs to  _grow up_ throwing snowballs at her because he  _likes_ her and he thinks that’s the way to go about it. It doesn’t matter that she  _fancies_ him. It doesn’t matter that, yeah, he got tall. She’s had  _enough_.  
  
He thinks she’s bluffing until the split second before the hex hits him.  
_  
_ “What did yeh do ter him?” Hagrid asks Lily concernedly, as Sirius yells angrily and James reels, clutching at his mouth.   
  
“Stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth,” she says, twirling her wand, eyes narrowed. Now people are laughing at _him_ , and -  
\- it doesn’t feel as good as she thought it might.  
  
“You won’t tell anyone, will you Hagrid?”   
  
“’Course I won’,” Hagrid says at once. He pauses, eyes twinkling. “An’ neither will he, I reckon.”


	6. 1976

_1976_

Gryffindors are supposed to be chivalrous, and that’s why James doesn’t hesitate when he overhears crying coming from a nearby classroom on his way back from Quidditch practice. It’s one hundred per cent chivalry, he decides, and not at all nosiness, because he’s not  _Snape,_ and he doesn’t poke around in other people’s affairs.   
  
Still, when he opens the door and sees Lily Evans sitting on a desk, face in her hands – well, his curiosity’s piqued.   
  
She jumps at the sound of his entrance, and he quickly says, “it’s me!” before her hand can fly to her wand. It occurs to him then that she’s hexed him before, but to his relief she relaxes, making no move except to drag her sleeve across her eyes.   
  
“Are you all right?” James asks, frowning. “Has someone hurt you?”  
  
She gives a short, humourless laugh. “Not in that sense, no,” she says drily, and then heaves a deep sigh. “If you must know, I – I’ve just been dumped.”  
  
James boggles at her.

He didn’t think girls like Lily Evans  _got_ dumped. He can’t understand why anyone  _would_ dump Lily Evans, either, because he’s pretty sure he never would. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, even with her face blotchy and eyes red, and for that matter, despite the crying, she’s still one of the  _toughest_ girls he’s ever met, because she’s dealt with Snape and his dickhead wannabe Death Eaters for years now and still goes around with a smile on her face most of the time.   
  
(In first year, he unconsciously respected her. It’s not so unconscious now, but he’s only just realising it.)  
  
“If you’re going to laugh, could you just – do it elsewhere?” she requests wearily. “I’m not in the mood.”  
  
“I’m not going to laugh!” James says, stung. “I don’t think it’s funny, I think it’s mad. Who in the name of Merlin’s left testicle dumped  _you?_ ”   
  
The watery little laugh she gives is a tiny victory, and to his relief, she doesn’t question the lie that he doesn’t know exactly who she’s been going out with. “Dominic Osbert. From Ravenclaw, in the year above. He said …”   
  
“What?” James prompts. He plonks himself down on the desk beside her, unconcerned by the lack of invitation. “What did he say?”  
  
“He said it wasn’t the right time for him to have a Muggleborn girlfriend.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“I mean, I know people are scared for their families –” _  
  
_ “Fuck that!” James exclaims furiously. “What right does that give him to chuck you? What an utter piece of shit! Give me a few minutes, I’ll get him –” he breaks off, frowning, as a thought occurs to him. “Hang on, why are you  _crying_ over him?”  
  
Lily looks defensive.   
  
“I liked him. And I thought he liked me for – I thought he liked me enough that my blood status wouldn’t bother him.” She pauses, pursing her lips. “He also said I was too bothered about You-Know-Who and  _all that stuff_. Talking about it too much, trying to get him involved.”  
  
“And you’re upset that he broke up with you,” says James incredulously. “You should be celebrating, for fuck’s sake!”  
  
Her brow furrows. “It’s not just that he broke up with me. It’s that I trusted him and now I feel like an idiot, and that he got the satisfaction of dumping  _me_ , rather than the other way round, and that he doesn’t  _care_ about what’s happening –” _  
_  
“I could have told you not to trust him. He’s got shifty eyes.” James shakes his head. “I mean, you were mates with Snape for years –” he knows they’re not anymore, and honestly, the rush of relieved joy he got when he noticed at the start of the term – “you’ve got to be more careful with who you trust.”  
  
“Excuse me!” Lily’s eyes narrow. “I had  _reasons_ to trust them. I don’t trust Avery, or Mulciber, or any of that lot – and what about you? You befriended a  _Black_ , everyone knows that family’s dodgy –”  
 

“Are you saying Sirius is Dark, or something?” James demands, his temper flaring.  
  
“No, I’m saying that you obviously have reasons for being his friend, and people should respect that! Look at you, you’re defending him, because you know him better than anyone – why is it any different with Se- Snape?”  
  
“Because Sirius hates his family – they disowned him, he doesn’t speak to them, and he hates the Dark Arts as much as I do, whereas Snape – he  _loves_ that stuff and he’s always hung around with that lot everyone knows want to join Voldemort. The signs were all there and I can only guess you ignored them because he treated you differently to all the other Muggleborns, which doesn’t make him anymore decent than the rest of them. You can’t just pick and choose who you’re prejudiced against based on whether or not you know them personally!”  
  
There’s a silence. James’ chest is heaving from the adrenalin of saying all these things he’s been thinking for God knows how long, but he can’t help but notice that being right doesn’t give him the thrill he’d thought it would. Lily’s white-faced, head bowed, and he feels –  _guilt?_ Is it guilt?

“I knew,” she says eventually, in a low, tight voice, “that he had a difficult childhood. I felt sorry for him. And he was good to me.”  
  
She looks up.  
  
“And - just so you know, whatever he might be, it doesn’t excuse what you did to him.”  
  
“What did I do to him?” James asks, though he knows the answer.   
  
“You  _tormented_ him – unprovoked, half the time – you could have seriously hurt him, there was no reason for it! And all the others, the random people in the corridors, just because you  _could?_ Just because they bothered you? What gave you that right?”  
  
“Yeah, all right,” he says. “I get that. Sometimes it was unprovoked with Snape, and that wasn’t cool. But can I just ask you something?”  
  
He gets a tiny jerk of the head, which he takes as acquiescence.   
  
“Since Osbert dumped you, have you considered hexing him? Getting revenge?”  
  
Lily purses her lips again before answering. “I did wonder about doing something to his – male parts,” she admits, to which James feels a spike of alarm, because he’s pretty sure she has reason to hold a grudge against  _him_. “But I thought it might be unfair to the poor girls he goes out with in future. What’s your point?”  
  
“Well, that was because he annoyed you,” James says. “And, might I remind you, you hexed  _me_  because I threw a snowball at you –”

  
“I hexed you because I was sick of you thinking you could do whatever you wanted,” Lily fires back at once. “And I wanted to do something to Dominic because he showed that he doesn’t give a toss about the things I stand for. Those aren’t silly, trivial reasons!”  
  
James shrugs.   
  
“I’ll give you the random people. But let me tell you – what Snape and his mates do, what they believe, goes against  _everything_ I stand for. The things they’re going to do as soon as they leave here, if they haven’t already. To people like you. They’re going to do a lot worse than humiliating someone, trust me.”  
  
Another silence.  
  
“I still – I still don’t think that makes it right.”  
  
“Maybe it doesn’t,” James says, “but I don’t think those pricks really give two hoots about justice, to be honest.”  
  
He pauses.   
  
“For the record, I don’t hex random people in the corridors any more.”  
  
“I – yeah. I noticed.”  
  
“And also for the record, I think you were well within your rights to hex Osbert. To say you were  _too bothered_ by the war – you should have sliced his knob right off.”  
  
To his surprise, Lily giggles.   
  
“It’s not a joke,” he says sharply. “This stuff is  _happening_ , and anyone who doesn’t care that people are disappearing and  _dying_ should be taught a lesson.” He glances at her, and sees her watching him steadily, green eyes almost curious.  
  
Quietly, she says, “thanks.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
She shrugs. “For staying, I suppose. I thought boys were scared of crying girls.”  
  
“I’m not scared of anything,” James lies. 


	7. 1977

_1977_  
  
After several long, long, minutes, the couple glued to each other’s faces finally resurfaces, much to the relief of the onlookers frozen both by disgust and concern for their health.  
  
“I could do that all day,” James announces happily to his slightly breathless girlfriend, who grins at him.   
  
“What about yesterday?”  
  
“Well, for two days, then. Possibly three. C’mere –”  
  
He pulls her close again.   
  
“I like this nose,” he informs her, tapping its tip.  
  
“I like  _this_ nose.”  
  
“Disgusting,” mutters a passing fifth-year.   
  
James, frowning after him, releases Lily and reaches for his wand.   
  
“I think I can still get him from here –”  
  
“DON’T,” says Lily sternly.  
  
He looks at her, then lowers his arm.  
  
“Good dog.”  
  
For some reason, he seems to find this hysterical; when he’s regained control of himself, he gasps, “ _dear me_ ,” and collapses into laughter again.  
  
“What are you looking at me like that for?” he demands of his girlfriend.  
  
“I think you’re quite mad,” she says affectionately, hopping on her tiptoes for another kiss, which turns into another, longer, when he wraps his arms around her.  
  
“I have to go,” she says eventually, with great reluctance. “I have Herbology.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“I do …”  
  
“No, it’s cancelled.”  
  
“It isn’t!” Laughing, she steps backwards and picks up her bag. “I wish I could, but we skipped Arithmancy this morning –”  
  
“ _Fine_ ,” James sighs. “Go. Leave me, all alone.”  
  
“Hardly! What are you going to do?”  
  
“Oh, not much,” he says casually, changing tack. “I was just going to find that room near the kitchens, you know, with the comfy chairs? Probably get some food. Then just hang out, have some inappropriate thoughts …”  
  
Lily’s resistance starts to crumble, and from the glint in his eyes, he knows it.  
  
“Weeeell,” she hedges, moving towards him again, “maybe I needn’t go – maybe there’s an emergency that needs the Heads to deal with it -”  
  
“Oh, I think the Head Boy can probably handle it alone.”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“Really, you should go –”  
  
“Actually, I think you were right, it  _is_ cancelled –”  
  
“No it isn’t.”  
  
“Stop it!” Lily cries, laughing, throwing herself back into his arms and gazing up at his face. What a lovely face. “You win, all right?”  
  
She pretends to be annoyed, but she couldn’t be further from it, and, for that matter, further from happy: it’s been two days since she and James threw caution to the winds and got together, and though everything else is going wrong, this is  _right,_ she feels it in her heart.  
  
“Excellent,” says James triumphantly. Then he freezes, his face falling suddenly. “Oh sh- actually, Lily, I’m really sorry, I said I’d hang out with Peter this period –”  
  
“Oh,” Lily says, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Oh, well, that’s OK –”  
  
He leans in for a kiss, then whispers in her ear:   
  
“Only joking.”  
  
He laughs all the way to the kitchens.


	8. 1978

_1978_  
  
The news is broken during an Order meeting on the 29th, the day before the wedding, that they might have some unwelcome guests.  
  
“They’re planning to crash it,” Gideon Prewett informs them, “and I don’t think in the  _don’t marry him!_ sense.”  
  
“Let them try!” James and Sirius say at once, but Moody scowls at them.   
  
“Attack a wedding attended by half the Order? After a few glasses of champagne you won’t know your arse from your elbow.”  
  
“I have trouble with that already,” Sirius grins. Peter laughs, but James doesn’t: he’s thought of something more pressing.   
  
“Moody’s right,” he says suddenly. “Lily’s parents will be there. They can’t defend themselves.”  
  
He glances at his fiancé, who squeezes his hand under the table.  
  
“We’ll just have to move it,” she says.  
  
They wanted the 30th because it’ll mark a year of being together, but they can both see that it’s not going to happen now. This is war: things don’t work out. They have to grit their teeth and get on with it, and this is hardly the worst that could have happened.  
  
“What about the 31st?” James suggests.  
  
Lily shakes her head. “The church won’t do it on a Sunday.” A Muggle wedding, in Lily’s local church, is her gift to her parents: a ceremony they can understand, which will take her further away from them, with her wizard husband and deep embroilment in wizarding war.  
  
“What about the day after that?”  
  
*  
It’s ten to midnight, and Lily and James lie on rumpled sheets, gazes held. On the floor by the end of the bed lies a heap of silk, glowing ghostly white in the dark room.  
  
“Mrs. Potter,” Lily murmurs, trying it out. “Sounds strange.”  
  
“Think how Alice felt after she married Frank,” says James, and their laughter sounds loud and discordant in the stillness of the atmosphere.  
  
They’re married, but Lily doesn’t feel like a wife, and James doesn’t feel like a husband. They’re eighteen, and three months ago they were receiving their exam results, already knowing they wouldn’t use them for anything, and every day that they’re still alive is something to celebrate.  
  
Today is a victory.


	9. 1979

_1979_

_They fall through the door as one, hands and mouths everywhere, feeling the evidence of their survival skin on skin, two beating hearts pressed up against each other, unable to let go even for a second, narrow escape needing narrow space between them …_

  
“Are you all right?”  
  
James’ voice cuts through the heady, sweaty adrenalin-fuelled haze that permeates the bedroom. Glasses off, he can only just make out the faint outline of his wife, lying on her back. He can’t tell if her eyes are closed.   
  
“No.”  
  
He scrabbles for his wand, points it at the nearest lamp, and shoves his glasses back on before turning back to her.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried, tense: he felt, earlier, in the urgency of her kisses, the tears dampened his face too, that something was  _up_ : and she always talks, too. She always cracks some joke, or rolls over for a soft, sweet kiss, brushes his hair off his face; anything.  
  
Lily sits up, pulling the covers up over her body.   
  
“That was the worst thing I’ve ever been through,” she whispers, as yet more tears fall. “I thought you were dead – I heard your body hit the ground – do you  _know_ what that’s like? That sound?”  
  
James doesn’t. He can’t imagine. He stares at her pale face, feeling sick, because though he thought of her when that curse hit, he didn’t think about how she might  _feel_.   
  
“I thought,” Lily goes on, her voice cracking and trembling, “I thought that I couldn’t love you anymore than I did when we married. I knew that there was a chance that I’d lose you. But – but I do, and now I – that moment, it hurt so much, I couldn’t move, and – James, I don’t know if I can do this!”   
     
He lurches forwards to grab her hands instinctively, rubbing gentle circles on her skin; he can’t bear the sound of her sobs.   
  
“Look,” he says, “I can’t promise that nothing’s going to happen. But I – I’ll be more careful. I will. And I swear –” his own voice cracks – “I swear you’ll never have to hear that sound again, all right? I’m so sorry, Lily, I’m so sorry you went through that, I never wanted –”  
  
Lily reaches up and brushes the tears from his cheeks.   
  
“ _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it … it’s just all so much, the thought that any day it could be you, it could be Sirius, it could be any one of us and it’ll leave this  _–_ this  _gap_ that we might never fill …”  
  
“You’re not as cheerful as you were when I married you,” James jokes, and she manages a weak smile.   
  
“Hey,” she says suddenly, eyes alighting on some point behind him, “it’s the 1st! It’s our wedding anniversary.”  
  
“It is?”  
  
They blink at each other, thrown.   
  
“I’ve been Lily Potter for one whole year,” she says wonderingly. “How strange.”  
  
“You’ve never stopped being Lily Evans to me,” James tells her. “Not for one second.”


	10. 1980

_1980  
_  
They both have fond memories of their parents’ wedding anniversaries. Lily’s parents would go out to Cokeworth’s only nice restaurant, her father in his best tie, her mother putting on lipstick and a pretty dress, and Lily and Petunia would lie on the bed and watch her get ready and beg to try on make-up themselves, and their parents would get out the wedding album, flick through the pictures, reminisce about old friends and relatives; then they’d look at each other, and smile, and later they’d toast to happy years together.   
  
James’ parents went out too, in their splendour, his mother in jewels and his father in a fine hat: and on the following day they would hold a grand party at the manor, witches and wizards flocking from all corners to celebrate their marriage, to coo at the little boy so welcome after childless years, to raise their glasses to the Potters.  
  
On their second anniversary, Lily and James don’t go out.  
  
They’ve been in hiding since February, cooped up in the small cottage, and the Dark side, as James jokes, doesn’t recognise their anniversary as a holiday. There’s nothing grand at all about the occasion, a day like any other, tinged with worry and fear.   
  
But they share a toast anyway, conjuring champagne flutes and sipping bubbly on the shabby sofa, still in their pyjamas, because they’ve still got something to celebrate.   
  
“Two years and one child,” Lily comments. “Not bad going, really.”  
  
She tickles their son’s chin, and he gurgles happily. Three month old Harry is a cheerful baby. He shows little frustration at the fact that he’s barely seen anything of the outside world, that  _his_ world is the cottage, and his mum and dad, because Sirius is rarely able to visit and he’s got no grandparents left and there’s a Dark wizard out there who’d like nothing more than to kill him. He’s got reason to be a difficult child, but he isn’t, he’s lovely, and his mother kisses his face and he giggles and kicks his little feet and tugs at her long hair while in the background his father pulls silly faces.   
  
They’re excited today because his blue eyes are starting to show the first signs of turning green. Lily marvels at the idea that she has passed her eyes onto another living being: that they will share this thing, that will mark them as mother and son, even if – and it looks likely, of course Potter genes are dominant – he looks like his dad in every other respect.  
  
“So – your eyes, my hair,” says James. “Whose nose, d’you reckon?”  
  
“I don’t think he’s got  _anyone’s_ nose. I think it’s all his,” Lily says, kissing it. “You know, these things sometimes change. I was born blonde. Maybe he’ll turn out looking like neither of us.”  
  
“Poor kid.”  
  
“Ha-ha. Harry, sunshine? D’you want to look like Daddy?”  
  
“Gnff,” says Harry.  
  
“He says, of course I do,” James translates swiftly. “I want to be just as handsome as my father, and I wouldn’t mind getting his skills on a broom, either –”  
  
“You got all that from ‘ _gnff’?”  
  
_ “Body language, Lily. I read between the lines.” He glances at her, grinning. “You know, it seems obvious to me now that the  _power the Dark Lord knows not -_ is simply devilish good looks.”  
  
There’s a beat before Lily smiles, because it’s still sort of uncertain whether or not they should joke about this: it’s really not funny, it’s – it’s  _awful_ , but they’ve got to keep their spirits up, and when it comes to that Lily is never more grateful for who she married.   
  
Impulsively, she kisses him.   
  
“Happy anniversary.”  
  
“I wish it was something more,” James says, “something better – I wish I could take you out – we’ll do it properly at some point, just for now –”  
  
“Don’t be silly,” Lily tells him, sincerely. “It’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”


	11. 1981

_1981_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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